Bishop’s mea culpa was honest

Many readers have encouraged me to indulge in a so-called “field day” with the circumstances of Bishop Robert J. McManus’s unfortunate arrest for drunken driving in Rhode Island.

Some misguided folks have assumed that I would take perverse glee in the news that the local diocese’s moral and spiritual leader was bagged last weekend for having one too many in, of all places, Narragansett. Some believed that I would find such an incident irresistible, given that the bishop rarely hesitates to pass stern judgment on the perceived foibles of others.

One local wag even suggested that I refer to the bishop as Robert “Manhattan” McManus, which I refuse to do partly out of respect, but mainly because the moniker isn’t all that funny and I trust we could do better.

Truly, I take no pleasure in the arrest of the potted prelate, which is obviously humiliating, even before someone gets their hands on his mug shot. (My money’s on the Providence Journal). Although he’s the bishop, Robert McManus is also vulnerable to human failings, and he’s certainly not infallible like the pope or Warren Buffett.

Besides, let’s be honest. How many of us have tipped a couple of drinks before getting behind the wheel, even though we know it’s wrong? How many of us, upon hearing about a drunken driving arrest, have privately thought — there but for the grace of God, go I? How many of us, particularly among members of the Worcester City Council, keep local lawyer Michael Monopoli on speed dial?

And that’s just the secular folks. If I were the celibate head of a long-repressed, scandal-plagued institution that still insists on banning birth control, women priests, and gay people, I’d be eager to knock back a few myself.

I also admire that the bishop pulled a Reese Witherspoon and immediately delivered a heartfelt apology, rather than rely on the excuse that his lawyer won’t let him talk. Granted, he’s adopted that posture now, but still. And the bishop was reportedly a “perfect gentleman” while miserably failing myriad sobriety tests, and never once used the tired old retort to the cops: “Do you know who I am? How would you like to spend eternity in the bowels of hell?”

While it looks bad for the smashed shepherd, he should consider himself lucky. It’s been a crazy week in Worcester, with everyone so preoccupied with the terrorist killer corpse that even the horrific story of the West Side torture chamber sicko barely made the front page. As one local radio talk show host explained, the bishop’s arrest in light of those developments is really not such a big deal, and he’s right. It’s not like the bishop is a dead terrorist. At least, as far as we know. Frankly, I haven’t seen the man in years.

But God was clearly not the bishop’s co-pilot when he left the scene after hitting a car. If the bishop was so drunk that he didn’t realize what he had done, that’s terrible. If he wasn’t that drunk and made a conscious decision to flee the scene, that may be worse.

Also, even though the cops said he was slurring his words and unsteady on his feet, the hammered diocesan head claimed he had just one glass of wine and one Manhattan during dinner, about three hours before his arrest. He wisely refused a breath test. Unless he possesses the build and metabolism of an 80-pound teenage girl, he may have to hit the confessional booth.

Nonetheless, the church says we should hate the sin, love the sinner. That might sound patronizing when ascribed to the gays, but maybe they’re not the only ones afflicted with some “intrinsically disordered” tendencies that need resisting. In the meantime, the bishop deserves our tolerance, and perhaps a carload of pastoral counseling.